Memories of a Different Past
by DuchessLomia
Summary: I’ve decided to write a story based on Erik’s past according to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Antoinette Giry has found a sad deformed boy and decides to help him out. Based on the movie.
1. Default Chapter

We heard the barkers shouting out their various exhibits. The smell of popcorn and sweat was heavy in the air as Sorelli and myself walked along the gypsy camp. I followed her to a large black tent where a tall banner proclaimed "The Living Corpse." This sounded unique so we went inside. There was already a large crowd and we had trouble finding a good place to see. Suddenly there was a cry and we saw a huge, greasy man beating a helpless child. I protested, but the man pulled off the paper bag on the child's head. Everyone was shock still. The left side of his face was riddled with scars and decayed flesh. His hair was gray and thin, and his left eyelid drooped.

He started to cry and the people laughed. I wanted to smack them but they began to toss coins and leave. I waited behind so I could talk to the boy, but the burly, repulsive man stayed behind. Suddenly I saw the kid pick up the ropes left behind, and before I could shout he had strangled the man. I heard people coming back and grabbed the little boy's wrist. He had placed the bag back over his face and followed me mutely. I brought him to the only place I could think of, The Opera Populaire. I told him to stay hidden in the cellar until I returned. I ran around front to tell Mme. Rianna, our ballet teacher, when I stopped. This boy had just killed a man. He was in deep trouble, and no one who saw his face would grant any sympathy. I charged down to help the strange kid.

The last few days had been a blur. I hadn't eaten in nearly a week, punishment for my insolence Javert had explained. I don't know why I strangled him; I'd never killed anyone ever. Yet I could not stand his nasty attitude, his greediness, and his squalor. Then, for some unknown reason, this strange girl had grabbed my wrist and dragged me to an immense building. I waited for her as she had asked me to. My mind was perplexed and I explored the room I was in. Suddenly I heard the clipping of horse's hooves and the girl was there, with a majestic black horse. "It's easier to navigate the cellars than on foot. His name is Caesar." She explained. I petted the horse gently. "Will you take care of him?" She asked. I looked at her, astonished. "You mean I can keep him, wherever I may go?"

The girl smiled shyly. She couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen, and I was only ten. She had pretty brown hair and gray eyes, with a dancer's nimble body. "Do you know where you'll go?" She asked. I nodded my head no. All I wanted was to go home, even if it meant back to Mother and her incessant vanity. I hadn't seen her in nearly three years, she may have already left. I looked down at the ground. "I am hungry and weary. What's your name anyway?" She held out her hand. "Antoinette Giry, Monsieur, but everyone calls me Ann, and who may you be?" I did not shake her hand but said simply, "Erik." There was an awkward pause before she ran her hand through her hair. "I could bring you some food and blankets for the night, and a map if you need one for your journey." I sighed. I was so tired of running from everything. I ran from my home and now I was running from the gypsies, did I really want to spend my life running away? I was only ten but already my mind was as bleak as a coffin, and I was the corpse that slept in it. Caesar brought me out of my stupor by snorting, and I patted his muzzle. "Where are we?" I asked.

"The Opera Populaire, I am a ballerina here." Ann said proudly. I sighed. "I do love music." She smiled. "Do you sing Monsieur?" "NO" I snapped curtly. I didn't want to ensnare her in my enchanting voice. Woman had been known to fall before my feet when I sang for Javert, and even my mother could not resist my melody. Ann twirled her skirts gently. "A speaking voice like yours and yet you say you can not sing? What a tease you are Erik." Good Grief, she had flirted with me. This was an unusual person, I wondered if she had gotten a good glimpse of my face earlier. Certainly if she had she would not be with me at this moment. Ann petted Caesar and told me she'd come back with food and drinks. I walked down the cellars with the horse and pondered this strange twist of fate.

I raced up to the kitchens giggling. This bizarre little boy was so strange. I had never met anyone so young and yet so mature. He was shy, reserved and melancholy, unlike the boys I usually met. Unlike my current boyfriend Jason! The chef paid no mind as yet another ballet girl stole some pastries and other items. I wondered how long Erik might stay. I rather liked him; he was nice although not very friendly. His deformity did not scare me; in fact it wasn't much to speak of. The right side of his face was chiseled and handsome, and I knew as he grew older he would be quite a charmer. I thought perhaps some makeup could help him, so I ran upstairs to the costume department. I also found a porcelain white half mask that could help if the makeup didn't work. I couldn't see him when I returned to the cellar, but I did hear a lovely voice singing. It was a soft tune, very gypsy style.

I was lost within that soft caress, until I felt a hand on my shoulder. "I am sorry Mademoiselle, I did not intend for you to hear me." Erik looked very sad, and I touched his hand. He gasped and I turned to face him. He stepped back and I smiled as friendly as I could. "I want to help you. I've brought some food and blankets, and this, if you'll allow me, to, erm.." I was speechless as Erik took the box of makeup and began to examine it. "I am a boy Antoinette." He said. "Well grown men wear makeup, and they don't have a deformity like you." I clapped my hand over my wondering mouth. I never wanted to insult the kid! He threw the box to the corner and pulled the bag off his head, then placed the mask over his face. He turned to look at me. "I thank you for your hospitality. Your help was greatly appreciated. I shall be leaving now. Have a superb time dancing with men in makeup." He took the bag of food and slung it over his shoulder. He mounted Caesar and led the horse to the top of the stairs. I did not follow as he left through the side gate. The only thought in my head was that I wanted him to be safe. I hoped he would find someplace to stay where he could be treated as a decent human being.

I led the horse outside and thought miserably. No matter where I went I would be persecuted and abhorred. I was like that new book Frankenstein, a monster that deserved to die. Even the young girl Antoinette could not bear to look at me. She wanted me to wear makeup and a mask and perhaps a wig. Well I banished all thoughts of her from my mind as I rode along. Soon dawn broke and I led Caesar to some water. I looked around. All I could see was grass, for miles and miles. I was lost, lonely, and had not slept in nearly two days. I broke down and cried. Soon I led Caesar to the grass and walked along as he ate. I thought things over in my head, and finally made a decision.

Two days later Erik returned. He'd dropped a note at my feet from the rafters. "Meet me in the fifth cellar at the top of the stairs. Tell no one of my presence." I turned and ran.

**Authors Note: New Chapter Coming Soon.**


	2. Working

I found him leaning against the wall of the fifth cellar. I was out of breath as I had ran all the way there. "I did not intend for you to run like that, drink some water." Erik came towards me and sighed. "I have nowhere to go. When I was out with Caesar people stared at me and pointed at my mask." I looked at him. "Well what exactly are you going to do?" Erik glanced around the cellar. "This is a pleasant, secluded area. I've explored the lower parts and there is a lake that terminates into a cavern. The cavern, with a few adjustments, will suffice." I giggled, and then burst outright laughing. "You mean to say you want to live in a cave? In the cellars of the Opera, like a Hermit?" Erik glared at me. "Hermit is such a dreadful description. I prefer ghost, or Phantom." I collected myself and smoothed my skirts. "Well Monsieur Phantom, how do you plan to eat? To get necessary items? To even survive?" He sauntered over to me, this ten year old boy, and I felt my knees buckle. He was indeed powerful, and as he grew older he would become dangerous.

"That is why I contacted you Ann. I could very well have snuck back in here quietly and never alerted anyone to my presence. However, I need you to deliver my items here, to act as messenger between the managers and myself, and to keep me company." The little boy looked down at the floor. "I've never had a friend before." He said. I smiled and placed my hand on his shoulder. That one act of affection soon became our friendship pact. We spent the next few days securing blankets and candles for Erik's "lair". The water between the banks of the lake and his lair was almost shoulder high, and so he created a raft to propel us across. We spent long hours talking, and he listened so intently. It was almost as if no one had ever taken the time to converse with him. He had appeared disappointed at my mention of Jason, but he also told me he wanted me to be happy. I had smiled and mussed the lapels of the evening coat he had stolen from the costume department. It was a grand time with this little boy.

I had developed a system with Ann. Whenever I had a note for one of the employees at the Opera I would send it down to her from the rafters. I explored the entire Opera vicinity, from beam to beam, and roof to foundations. She would eat lunch with me but her evenings were always full. I began to frequent the productions by sneaking into Box Five. I'd scared more than one patron out with my ventriloquism. It was an amazing experience, to watch the Opera's and haunt the employees. I spent my spare time fixing up the cavern, which Ann had nicknamed "The Lair". I had candles everywhere and swaths of fabric.

I almost threw my back out trying to carry a large swan bed down to my home. Ann had laughed but I warned her. No one laughed at me, or else. I would never hurt anyone intentionally, but there were times when I had to act in self-defense. I installed a large gate across the top of the cavern, and the only person who could control the switches was me. I never allowed Ann to use the key that turned the lever on, and there had been times when she stood outside my gate for hours. The one thing I wanted more than anything however, more than the books and the painting supplies, more than the couch and the table and the company of Antoinette Giry, was my music. I wanted to compose, to sing, and to enjoy the sensation of pounding my frustrations into the keys of an organ piano. Ann seriously told me there was no way we could get an item like that down to "The Lair". I told her defeat was not an option.

Erik had been living under the Opera for nearly two years now. I was sixteen and he was twelve. We thought it was all a fun game; he haunted the patrons and tricked the managers. However, things had become different. For one, Jason proposed. Erik had not taken it well. He had smashed a candelabra and looked menacingly at me. Then to my surprise he fell at my feet. "What about me Ann? Who's going to be my friend when you leave to live with him?" I had never expected him to become so dependent on me. Of course he had no other friends, and no one knew he was there. They knew of the Opera Ghost of course, but no one ever bothered to actually talk to him. If he had died and I told no one, his body would have decomposed there until the new Millennium. I had lain my hand on his shoulder and he stopped pacing.

He'd looked at me with such sorrow, such desolate anguish, that I reached out and tried to kiss his handsome right cheek. He yelled at me to get out, to leave the beast and run to my prince charming. I did, just for spite, and did not see him again for over two months.

I set to work on getting my organ piano. It cost nearly five thousand francs, and that's when I started asking the managers for money. I needed some clothes that fit, that were tailored to my tall frame, and a saddle for Caesar. I also required paper, pencils, and mirrors. I had an idea for the black room that was located under the front of the Opera Populair Foyer. Right under the large staircase would be a trapdoor, just for amusement really. If anyone fell in they would have a hell of a time getting back out. It took a few weeks and several dead rats in the manager's pants before I got my first check. Twenty thousand francs and I blew it all on music. My organ piano, a violin, sheets for writing melodies, pens and inks, and a carousal statue that revolved while it played "Sweet Harmony." It was a gift for Ann if she ever returned. However, Ann was not the least of my problems after I bought the organ. How in hell would I get that thing down to my lair? The seller had simply delivered it to the Rotunda side of the Opera House, as was his instructions.

There were four cellars and several miles of stairs before ending at the bank of the lake. I sighed as I ran out to buy eight small wheels and several nails. I spent the entire afternoon nailing and cursing until the organ was ready. I then stood up and began to push. I pushed and shoved as the organ slowly inched forward. It took me all evening and night until the thing was even inside the Opera House. I never took a break unless it was for water, and spent over a week pushing the damn organ down to the beginning of the first cellar. I sighed as I approached the situation. Nothing ever defeated me, and this was just a small challenge to achieve mastery over. I practically broke my back heaving the organ down the stairs. The wheels were getting loose and I had to stop at the end of the first cellar. After I tightened them I made it past the second cellar and a small scrape with Joseph Bouquet, a nasty stage-hand. I easily pushed him into a broom closet but not before he saw my face. I only wore my disguise when I was out or around Ann. Alone I could be who I was without fear.

I made it to the third cellar two days later and finally stopped to eat. I laughed at the whole situation. After resting for long enough I began to drag my organ piano down the last cellar. No one ever bothered with the fourth or fifth cellars, the props and scenes were all kept upstairs. These two areas were mainly for the lake and possible flood, and me. Suddenly I heard a gasp and dropped the end of the organ I had been pulling on. "Shit" I muttered as Ann came screaming at me. "What on earth are you doing! You're going to kill yourself! What if that thing topples over on the stairs and crushes you! What if the pipes fall off or you trip or…" I glared at her. I was now thirteen and beginning to develop quite an attitude. "Why does that bother you? You left me for nearly two months to fester alone. I've decided to start working. Really haunting the place, not just childish games anymore. I want to manage the performances, hack the actors that aren't worth pay and develop my own Opera."

I laughed in her face as she began to cry. "Erik, I'm so sorry. I never intended for you to stay here. You can always leave. I know I left you, but you must understand I have a husband now. I love him dearly and I love you too, but really I can't take care of you both!" She watched as I continued to heave and shove the organ onto the bank of the lake. "You're really serious." She whispered. I stretched out my back and began to rub my sore muscles.

I knew she was watching and I put on quite a show. My body was tight and attractive; it was only that one small area of my face that prevented me from any decent life. I had of course become interested in the female form, and wondered if any woman would ever choose to lay with me. Ann sobbed as I resumed working. I went around the other side of the organ and pushed it into the water.

Ann followed meekly as I shoved through the waist high canal. It was much easier to push in the water, and I bent down to the hidden keyhole to unlock the gate. Ann stepped past me and stopped, astounded.


	3. Teenage Frustrations

I almost choked when I saw Erik's lair. He had had quite some time to arrange the area. The left corner of the cavern was hidden behind a thin black gauze curtain, and I could see his swan bed alongside a small sliver table and brown armoire. Piled in the corner beside the make-shift bedroom was an odd assortment of paints, papers, bottles, and other utensils.

The entire facade of the cavern had been swathed in black, white, and gold fabric, and there were candles everywhere; much more than was necessary. A nice red couch and chair situated the far right corner, and a black table I recognized from the chorus hallway was covered in papers and blueprints of the Opera. He had two side-by-side mahogany bookcases overflowing with literature of all types.

I could scarcely believe a thirteen year old boy could read all of those. I walked over to a large mahogany desk as Erik grunted and shoved the organ piano into his lair. His desk was littered with all types of pins, metal, timber, and other bits and pieces I couldn't recognize. I turned to face him as he lay exhausted on his couch. "Are you happy now?" I asked scathingly.

He ran his hands through his gray hair and sighed. "Ann, I am exceedingly pleased to be living here. It's quiet, secluded, and no one apart from you irritates me." I placed my hands on my hips. "I irritate you!" I screamed. "You're the irritating bastard who commands me around. For three years I've done your bidding, fetched you items, and hidden you from the managers. If it weren't for me monsieur you'd be dead in a gutter!"

He shot up straight and his eyes stared me down. "Antoinette, I never asked you to rescue me. You simply brought me here and expected me to leave and have a normal life. Can't you understand I can never have a normal anything! No individual will ever treat me decent. I choose to live here because I can do what I please, when I want, and NO ONE will dare contradict me, not even you!" He stood before me menacingly and I shrank. He shook my shoulders as he yelled in my face and I dared not cry.

I stood bravely up to this boy and told him. "This is the life you've chosen, and I shall not force you from it. But know one thing Erik; you could have a civilized, normal life if you make an effort. You're still young, your very intelligent, and this," I touched his face and he shrank back," will not stop you from conquering the world."

He glared at me and released my shoulders. He turned to his organ piano and sat down on a bench, attempting not to cry. I stood as he began to pound angrily on the keys. After a few moments his banging settled down and he began to play a softer tune. I came to sit beside him and reached out to stroke the right side of his face. He turned into my palm and his eyes were wet. I placed my arm around his shoulders and he leaned into my neck, finally sobbing. I let him cry until he was finished. He looked up at me and I smiled. "You'll always be here for me right?" I nodded gravely, knowing full well the consequences if I broke that promise. "Erik, I'll always take care of you." I whispered.

I'll always take care of you; I'll always take care of you. The words repeated themselves in my head as I played, For the first time in my life I had broken down, but instead of falling into a black abyss Ann had lifted me up into a lively oasis. I'll always take care of you. I played a soft tune and wrote on the paper. I didn't know what I was composing. It just poured out of me and I obeyed my energetic mind. For the past several hours after Ann had left I had been playing on my new organ piano.

It was finally down here and I could lose myself at last in precious music. I felt dreadful for treating Ann the way I had, I'd never intended to hurt her. For some reason my emotions were harder to control these days, and I frightened even myself. She was kind, gentle, and the only friend I had. I wanted her to be happy, and I knew what made her truly happy. Jason. Her husband. A lucky man. My music became harder as I thought about them together, sharing what I could never share. I pounded the keys and yelled, not bothering to keep my voice down.

I wanted them to hear me, those pestilent people above the ground. Let them know that I was here, that I would never leave. I crashed the keys as I thought about love, and happiness, and the fact that I could never experience any of those. When Ann had placed her arm around me I'd felt so vulnerable, so shocked. I'd laid my head on her collar and cried into her neck. She had not shifted or been frightened, instead she'd held me. Me! And now she was out there holding another man. Him! I banged the keys and screamed out hysterically. I slid my hands along the entire keyboard and ended at the last note.

I leaned into my arms on the keys and cried. I cried for my mother, and for the childhood I'd never experienced. I cried for Ann's friendship, and cried for my miserable life. I cried and the tears slid over my rotten, hideous face. I stayed there a few moments as my body shook, and finally dragged myself off to bed, but I didn't really sleep. It was more like a black, fuzzy haze that hung over my mind as images swirled though the murkiness. I awoke several hours later but did not look at the clock. I grabbed my cloak and gloves, and donned my mask and wig, then set out to do my business.


	4. One Year

The days went by in a haze. I was 17, fresh in the throes of love, and nothing could daunt my enthusiasm. Nothing, except for Erik. He was becoming quite a burden. He had already began quite an extensive embezzlement form the Managers, He controlled the performances; casting whomever he pleased without regard to the directors or instructions. He often edited the musical scores and several Conductors quit before we found Monsieur Remy. The Opera Ghost's word was law, and we all lived in fear of it. As for our relationship it deteriorated rapidly after my marriage to Jason.

I knew Erik was jealous, but I had known Jason far before I ever knew Erik. He had acquired quite a temper and would often yell at me for no particuler reason. I found out he was sneaking out of the Opera late at night, causing several bar fights, yet no one could seem to catch this mysterious individual. I couldn't verify if he actually murdered anyone, but I had my suspicions. The stage hands would talk of a spectral shadow with a white lasso that would catch wandering fools. More than one evening I would cry myself to sleep lamenting the mistake I had made in helping Erik. Yet I did help him, much to my dismay. He reminded me of a lost little bird that had lost it's mother and couldn't fly. He continued to give me his notes and I would deliver them monotonously. If he required items or necessities from me I would bring them to the top of the third cellar.

I had finally stopped visiting his lair once and for all, and I dared never to leave beyond the third cellar. He had cursed at me when he learned I would not be seeing him as often. I tried to remind him that I was a ballet dancer and wife, and I had other duties to attend to. One evening I came to find in my dressing room a red rose tied with a black ribbon and a note, a note that simply stated "I am sorry for my behavior Antoinette". I visited him in his lair that night and he gave me the greatest secret. A skeleton key, that could open more doors than even the one the Managers owned.

That key opened doors I never even knew existed, and the look in his eyes told me everything. If I ever let our secret become known, even to my husband, I would be in faer for my life. His actions that night had both intrigued and frightened me. He'd played a soulful melody, something he had written especially for my ears alone. Then when I told him I had to go home for it was late, he'd thrown a candle at the wall and yelled that I did not want to stay with him. I had clasped his hand in mine and tried to offer him comfort, yet he backed away from me, citing that no one would ever want to stay with him.

The only thing I knew to do was walk away sadly, never knowing that in the morning I would find Tenugh, our resident comedian, dead. The only mark, a red ring around his neck. They replaced him quickly enough with a midget, who took up affinity with our head tenor Piangi. After this incident I had found myself walking towards the police station, but stopped as soon as I thought of his sad, tormented eyes. Those eyes could drown the world in tears, and with a heavy heart I went home.

For seven years I hid Erik from the world, the only keeper of his dark secret. He was like my brother, someone I cared for and loved, and yet I also feared him. I abhorred the man I knew he would become; dangerous, deadly, yet strangly seductive. I continued to live in a haze of innocence, flirting with the love of Jason and the danger of Erik.

However, I soon discovered I was pregnant, and that hazy fog of innocent youth fell just as rain falls deep into a lake.

She stopped visiting me about six years into our friendship. I fear I drove her away with my abhorrent conduct. I had become quite ferocious, making my presence at the Opera House supreme and omnipotent. I spent the days composing, drawing, writing, reading, pretty much anything there was to do I did it. I continued to receive my twenty thousand francs each month, and would often send thank you notes with chocolates to the Managers.

I detested the Operatic Scores and made a few adjustments here and there, until after three employees's quit they found a rather pleasing man named Monsieur Remy. I liked his style and instead of outright changing his music I sent him notes, giving advice and also asking questions. I had begun my own Opera, Don Juan Triumphant, and needed all the information I could receive. In exchange for his advice I gave Monsieur Remy full power to fire anybody he so deemed worthy of replacement. No need to explain to the Managers, I had already sent those sniveling cowards a note.

Ann stopped venturing into my lair and I became quite lonley. It had never occured to me how dependent on her companionship I had become. I began walking outside the Opera Populaire, late at night and under the cover of shadows. At first I simply walked the streets, trying hard to hide my masked face, then I gained enough courage to enter taverns and other establishments. The stares and looks that the people gave me forced my temper to intrude, yet I never actualy killed anyone. The ladies of the bar would tell me as they escorted me outside that I made the men jealous, thats all.

I would glare at them and demand to know what they meant. The ladies would laugh and say goodbye, and my tortured soul would saunter down the streets again. I attended theaters of all varieties, learning as much as I could. I would stay late and force myself to talk with the actors, just to excersize my social skills and learn of the latest Parisian news. The only theater I did not benefit from was burlesque, a vulgar show of young, vulnerable women desperate for money. When I tried to explain to them that life could be better, they laughed in my face and I would be escorted outside. I had often met prostitutes in the streets, and being a healthy boy of fifteen I was interested in the female form, yet I wanted more from a relationship than a one-night-stand.

I was looking for love, a woman who would gaze past my appearance to the lonely man I was. I had once thought Ann was that woman, but pert little Jason stole her affections. The one night she did come to my lair I tried to act on my best behavior. We talked and she was quite friendly, unlike the cold, abrasive figure she had been in the past few months. I had enough courage to play her my song, a song I had written espescialy for her. The breaking point of this wonderful mood had come when I was finished, and she agitatedly told me she had to leave.

I was shocked, it was only eleven in the evening, yet she insisted she had rehersals the next morning. I became quite infuriated and threw a candle, and she grabbed my hand. The woman had the indignity of touching me, and I told her to leave. She did, although I had really meant for her to stay. I was so distraught that I never even realized a man had falled into my room of mirrors, until the screams forced me to silence him for good. That was the first time I'd ever killed without reason, and I barely knew who the man was. I had cried that day, during those days it seemed I cried often, but my music would console me.

Music was my life blood, my love, the only type of love I would ever receive. Even Ann's "love" was nothing compared to my music, and I lost myself in it's warm embrace. So the days passed, one after the other, until the day I realized I had spent nearly seven years under that Opera House.

It was quite a revalation, and I wondered if I would spend my enternal mortality inside that abysmal cavern, and the sad truth is, I would.


	5. Deadly Threats

**Authors Note: This story is about to get dark and sinister. Have you ever wonderedhow Mme. Giry becamea widow and why she stayed at that Opera House for nearly 40 years? (Of course we are talking about the ALW version and not the Book) Be Warned.**

I tried to stay away from Erik as much as possible during my pregnancy. I only did what was necessary to keep him at ease, but never ventured to his lair or spent time talking to him. Of course he threatened me, but I was able to stand up to him, and eventually he disappeared into the shadows. The sad truth was, I feared for mine and my child's life. Erik had become such a spoiled brat that the mere notion of bringing a new child into the scene was unbearable.

I knew about his jealousy and hatred of anything that stole my attentions away from him. He had been content with Jason so far, as long as the man stayed away from the Opera. However, with a child to care for and raise I didn't see how I could continue to hold Erik's secret. I knew he would never harm my family physically; but physiologically he was quite a menace. I vowed never to let my children near him, lest they too would fall under his strange spell.

Life at the Opera House had become nothing more than, well, a great pain in my neck. The customary procedure when a young ballet dancer became pregnant was to hold her spot for up to ten months until she was able to return. If the dancer chose not to continue her career her spot in the troupe would be given to a new girl. I had spoken to Jason and he agreed it was better that I quit at the top, and stay home to raise our future children.

The only problem it seemed was how to break away from Erik's iron clasp. I had hidden myself quite well for nearly three months, but I was a fool to think Erik wouldn't figure things out. My life took a turn for the worse, and when I look back on those events I often wonder if my life would have been better if I had just left the deformed child behind.

I was living quite well under the Opera House. I had a monthly paycheck, a good friend, or so I thought, and free entertainment. My masterpiece Don Juan Triumphant was coming along pleasantly. I had also discovered a great pastime of chasing stagehands around the cellars. My favorite toy was Joseph Bouquet. I would hide in the shadows until he approached, and then jump out behind him, thus ensnaring him in my game of cat and mouse, with him chasing me and me chasing him. It was grand amusement. It was also marvelous to sneak into the ballet brat's dressing rooms and listen to their spiteful gossip. The most important news could be gathered from them.

Yet all this leisure would often bring me sorrow as I would wonder through the halls alone. I was melancholy at times, and frequently would find myself at the top of the roof, contemplating my solitude and anguish. All my life all I had ever wanted was to be accepted, to be cared for and loved, yet that was the most elusive idea I could never grasp. At first my friendship with Ann had been wonderful, days spent talking and laughing, her warm presence by my side, and yet now she was running form me, hiding the child that grew in her belly.

I couldn't understand why she would run from me; I was quite a tender man. The least idea in my mind was ever to harm an innocent child. Children were precious, the future of our world, and I only wanted Ann to allow me the gift of knowing her exquisite children. I confronted her several times, but she would swerve my assaults and walk away.

I had once yelled at her "You never walk away from The Phantom!" "You never walk away from Erik!" It had caused something deep within me to break, and I spent the rest of that night sobbing into a glass bowl, which I sent as a present to Antoinette; my tears in a fragile glass bowl. I finally stopped talking directly to her, and merely hid among the shadows. That was all I had become, a shadow, a black, empty nothingness. Even my music suffered.

Don Juan became miserable and the only notes I could bring myself to play were funereal requiems. I wondered if Jason had such a voice as I, and would he be able to sing a little baby to sleep. I sometimes practiced, singing ordinary lullabies and diminutive ditties, and even began to sew a small blanket for Ann's child, but threw that away because I knew she would never accept it. Rather, I immersed myself in building and carving a miniature replica of the Opera Populaire.

I added dolls and props, and would even practice bits of my Don Juan with the little carved figures. It passed my tedious days and occupied my sleepless nights. Perhaps if Ann would allow it, I could present the miniature Opera House to her child if it were a young daughter.

The days now seemed extensively tormenting, and soon I learned from the ballet brats that Antoinette Giry would not be returning to her ballet career. This sent my mind reeling in fervor; if she did not stay at the Opera, how could she be my friend and benefactor? She wanted to leave me, and I had to make sure that never occurred.

I had spent the past few days in my home, tired, bulky, and quite content. Jason was working, as were our servants, and my child was due presently. The midwife had instructed me to stay in bed until the labor pains began, and I was passing the time reading a new book. Suddenly I heard a knock on the door. It didn't surprise me; friends and family were always checking up on me, brining me presents and chattering about my future child.

However, this visitor had surprised me. Erik, standing in the door to my bedchamber, dressed entirely in black evening clothes and a white mask. The servant came to my side saying, "I tried to keep him out but he pushed me. I don't know who he is Madame, shall I call the police?" I nodded my head no, replying "I know who he is. Let him be, and bring us some tea."

Erik came to the chair beside my bed and looked at me. He had indeed grown into quite a handsome man. Puberty still wasn't done with him, and when it was he would be exceedingly suave. I tried to smile but fear held my mouth tight. "I have come to wish you luck, and may God bring joy upon your child." His voice caressed my skin and I cursed myself for such impish thoughts. Here I was, married and nine months pregnant, having immoral thoughts about a man I loathed and feared.

"Erik, I do apologize for my recent actions. You must understand I only have your best intentions." He cocked his head. "Best intentions? Is it in my best intentions to lose the only friend I have? To lose the chance to see a child and watch them grow into a fine gentleman or debutante? Ann, never presume to know what my best intentions are." His voice was rich with sarcasm and I glared angrily.

He took my hand in his gloved one and squeezed gently. "I only want your family to prosper. I never want your children to lack for anything, and I've come today to give you a generous present." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope. I took it and opened it, never removing my eyes from his. Inside the envelope I gasped. Sixty thousand francs and a note. I read the note and my astonishment turned to cold revulsion.

"You did what? I swear, what did you do?" Erik chuckled. "She had it coming, but if you had been there, would you have said I'm wrong"? The note was a newspaper clipping, announcing that my best friend, La Sorelli, had been arrested for murder of her abusive boyfriend, and the Paris Opera Populaire was searching for a new Ballet Instructor. I knew what Erik intended.

He looked at me quietly. "Ann, I never touched either of them, I merely set up the confrontation. He was drunk, she got sent home early from work, and now you are quite secured a job should anything ever befall your precious Jason." He spit out the words precious Jason and I knew this was what his manipulative mind was capable of.

Murder without murdering. He was a cold, calculating and deadly menace, and I screamed at him. "Nothing will ever befall Jason, nor any of my family! Stay away from me, stay away from us all, Get Out!" I hit him hard and he knocked the chair away.

"Ann, you may regret those words." He reached the door and stopped; I clenched my fists and seethed. "I love you Antoinette, and I love your child. I do wish you happiness, bliss, and warmth. Good Day Mademoiselle."


	6. Jason

I fumed and screamed, I cursed God, The Devil, and whatever lay between them. Ann had thrown me out, pushed me on my back and taken away her hand for comfort. All that was to be found in her hands now was a slap in the face. I walked down the street dejectedly, thinking over what had happened. I had only wanted her to know I cared.

I gave her money to buy the child some suitable provisions, a job should she ever choose to come back to the Opera, and my best wishes for her life.Of course Ann had only focused on the bad side of things. Sure I had had La Sorelli arrested, she was a menace to Ann's career, and her boyfriend had been rather a nitwitted gimp, so it was best that he had died.

I came to the alley shortcut that would lead back to the Opera when the idea struck me. Or rather, I walked straight into it. Jason, bastard thief of my Ann's love and affections. Jason, the man whose child she now labored over while he strutted about with his entourage. I bumped directly into him and several of the men he was with laughed. "I do say Monsieur, if you'd stop muttering curses and pick your head up you would notice where you are going."

I glared at him, and the idea came at that moment. An idea so dastardly, so utterly dishonorable, and yet so menacingly perfect, I shudder to this day as to why I ever did it at all. I could have walked on, left Ann to her business and got on with my life. I could have ignored the man, left life the way it was, and yet I couldn't bear the thought of losing my one companion, my dearest benefactress. The only thing that stood in my way of having Ann all to myself was this man, who was now chattering to his companions about my "silly little mask".

I cleared my throat and said calmly, "Monsieur if I could have a word with you for one second, I must apologize." The man's companions chuckled. "Well you are forgiven." Jason replied. I shook my head, "Oh, I mean to ask if we could be alone for a second, to talk, about, Ann." Jason looked at me quizzically.

My idea was simple enough. Take Jason down the alley, give him a good beating and leave him to walk home, as testimony so Ann would know that no matter where she ran I would find her. Certainly if she didn't want her husband beat senseless every evening she would accept the job and come back to the Opera. I give my word of honor I never, ever, intended for things to go so badly. I had never wanted to actually harm the man, only shake him up.

However, as I stood there, my sixteen years against his twenty-three, and his four companions chuckling as though it were all a joke, it came to me that perhaps there was a limit, a point at which man simply has to admit defeat in the face of life, and get a grip on his conscious lest he slip into insanity. I, of course, have reached that limit several times and crossed it as though I were playing jump-rope with sanity and madness.

Jason looked me squarely in the eyes. "What do you know of Ann?" He asked sternly. I held out my hand and lost all sane thought at that moment. I honestly can not explain everything that happened that dusky evening. I remember Jason shooing his entourage away to the nearest cafe and walking with me into the alley. I remember shoving him against the brick wall and then bringing my fist into his face.

After that I blacked out. I came out of that black inkiness into a scene of abomination. Jason lay dead at my feet, his face bloody and his body twisted grotesquely. I fell to my feet and cried. I wailed my lamentations to my bloody hands. I fumed and screamed, I cursed God, The Devil, and whatever lay between them.

I carried the heavy body under the cover of darkness, until I came to a stable at the end of the street. It was where taxi men kept their horses and carriages, and I left the body positioned so it appeared that the horses had merely trampled him to his demise. It was a sham, and easily seen through if anybody had known who I was.

Of course Ann knew who I was. She would see through the sham and come screaming at me, perhaps even hitting me, but I would not hit her back. I straitened my sleeves, adjusted my cuff-links, and went to the Opera's performance of _La Tr'e Desre'nze. _


	7. Returning

**Ann:** Three days after Jason's funeral I packed my bags, took my daughter Megan, and fled the country. I went north to Italy and did not answer any of my friends or Jason's parent's questions. Of course everyone, even the police, wanted to know why on earth a man of Jason't stature, who wasn't a taxi driver or stable-groom, was doing in a taxi stable. I saw immediatly through the sham Erik had provided.

No one else could possibly guess that Jason's demise wasn't an accident, yet I was too stunned to announce the secret that I had held deep within my soul for too long.

I had raced home, gone through the prelimonary arrangements, and then as soon as possible I left for a small Inn on the south side of Italy, across the Nothern French Border. I had to console my reeling thoughts, get my life back in order. Megan was barely a week old and couldn't understand that she would never know her father. I sat at a writing desk and cried.

I cried because I knew Erik had me trapped, he had reeled me in like a captive fish and I was unable to let go of the worm. I knew that Jason did not have a vast fortune; we had been living very modestly yet it had been enough when he was alive.

Now, however, once the money from Jason's account and the money Erik had bequeathed me ran out, I knew we would be penniless and on the streets. I couldn't let my young daughter grow up in such dismal situations, but it was hard for a woman, especially a young widow, to gain any status in society without a man.

I would eventually have to find a job, and I didn't have many talents to even consider more than a factory seamstress or ballet and chorus instruction. It was exactly what Erik wanted, for me to return dismally into his cold companionship.

The sound of Megan's crying brought me out of my listlessness, and as I soothed her, I wondered how bad things could actually be. Of course I would have a permanent job; Erik would make sure of that; and I would have enough money to support my daughter, who also could enter the conservatory when she turned five, if she had the talent for ballet or chorus.

I remembered how much fun Erik and I used to have, in our younger days, before his solitude and hatred for society had brought his mind deep into a pit of despair. I remembered our laughing and adventures in the Opera, and how delightful he had once been. Perhaps if I did return he would change. If I payed a bit more attention to him he could, in a manner of English speaking, mellow out. I bundled Megan up and left Italy a week later, and returned to claim the job that still had not yet been filled.

**Erik:** It seems strange to mention this, but every once in a while during my reign as Phantom of The Opera, an unusual Persian fellow with an astrakan cap would wander through my domain as if searching for someone. I had no idea who he was and completly ignored him, and in time he soon disapeared.

As for Antoinette she never disapeared. She returned several weeks after Jason's unfortunate passing, and I made sure to catch a glimpse of the young child she carried in her arms as she meandered towards the Managers Office. I had slipped into my usual trap-door beneath the floor of the office, and listened intently as her contract, according to the Opera Ghost's demands, was read.

She signed and accepted, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I never wanted to hurt Ann or her child, whom I know knew as Megan Giry, and I had made sure she was paid a reaonable amount, given acceptable hours to work since she was also a mother, and the first of every month off, which in time she would learn why.

I had slipped quietly out of my hiding place and glided towards her in the hallway. "Erik, what audacity to reveal yourself in full veiw." She had said. I replied, "No one is here Mademoiselle, save yourself and this charming little daughter." I bent down and kissed Megan on the forehead while Ann tried to hold her closer to her chest. "I shall never harm her dear friend, yet I will be sorely dissapointed if I am never allowed her company as well as yours."

Ann glared at me as I tried to smile; smiling is such a hard concept to master. "You will be dissapointed Erik, for I will never allow Megan to know you. The closest you'll ever get to her is now, and I will keep her by my side always, only to make sure she never meets you." My anger and fury welled up inside me, but I clenched my teeth and held calm. "Ann, I expect you to visit me once a month, every month, and what grand times we will have, with or without Little Meg."

I reached out to brush a stray hair off Ann's cheek but she ducked away and backed up. I bowed and swept my cape magnificantly through the air. "You have nothing to fear Antoinette, I am your gaurdian and shall watch over you and Little Meg, you should start thinking of me as her Godfather!" I then fell down through the trapdoor I had installed above the floors.

It was nothing more than a straight drop down to the third cellar, and it hurt so damn harshly that I rarely used it or the twin one directly beneath the stage. Joseph Bouquet had already discovered the trap-door beneath the stage, so I had begun to place fire ants and tacks on the ground beneath it.

**Ann: **Such Arrogance! Such a demanding attitude! Erik had had the audacity to tell me what to do concerning my own job! I had clutched Megan tightly as he told me his plans.

I had to meet with him once a month, and of course he wanted to see my young daughter. I was terrified of how he would treat her. I didn't think he would harm her, nor cause her any problems, it was his suffocating and intolerable desire for companionship that I beleived he would carry Megan away to his lair and never allow her out again.

I made sure the nanny she was placed with knew never to allow her out of her sight, and though it seemed strange to explain, I told the nanny to never allow anyone other than myself to take Megan away, even in cases of extreme emergency in which another person could care for her until I arrived.

I watched over my daugher like a hawk, but I knew an eagle was out there watching as well, and I protected her with harse authority. Erik didn't cause too much trouble with me around. As long as I talked to him and quietly took his notes to the appropriate individual, he was as calm and placid as wind on a sunny June day.

Of course I did actually enjoy my new job as Ballet Instructor. The children could be brats at times, but they learned quickly and were the epitome of Paris High Society. Ladies would gossip about how changed and mature the Ballet was after La Sorelli's leaving, and I was proud.

Erik actually had good idea's at times, and I learned as everone else had, to accept The Opera Ghost's manipulation of plays, casting, and musical scores.

The time passed quickly enough, but little did I know how times would change.


	8. Megan's First Few Years

**Erik: **Life was simple enough. I composed my music, helped the bumbling manager with my Opera, and watched Little Meg grow into a fine toddler. The first year of her life was amazing, from her sweet smile to her first tiny tumble when she began to walk. Ann tried hard to keep Megan away from me, but she had no power over what I could do.

I would often leave little choctlates for Meg to find and small toys I bought especially for her. My favorite past time, however, was to visit Ann's apartment on the eleventh floor late at night and sing to Meg. If she ever began to cry, I could always console her with my voice, and Ann knew this, though she resented it.

I cared for the child, wanted everything to go right for her, and would do anything for her sake. As for Ann, we reconciled, a little at a time. She would visit me once a month, and I would give her my simple list of items I required. I had stopped going out at night, in fact I would spend weeks without ever venturing into the sunshine.

My experiances with the outside world were painful, and I became tired of the tedious Parisian society. Life inside the Opera was where I felt most comfortable. So the years passed, and I grew older. My old games and amusements had fallen away to more academic interests, and I no longer played silly tricks with the patrons, only doing enough each month to assure the employees of the Opera that their ghost still watched over the proceedings.

Meg began to talk, and Ann grew angry when she realized I was talking back. She cornered me one night and made me swear never to reveal myself to Megan. I swore that she would never see my physical presence, but she would know that she had a friend, should she ever need one.

Time seemed to pass by unnoticed, and I began to live by my own internal clock, sleeping only once or twice a week, and staying up during the late hours of the night. Life was a moment, and I lived for the moment.

Ann grew populer among the Parisian ladies, and they would send their daughter's of all ages to the conservatory to learn not only ballet and chorus, but ettiquette and social life. Of course I was interested in the older girls, I was a healthy man of eighteen, but I never dared to think about doing anything to them.

When I was alone I would often fantasize about the perfect woman, the woman I wanted to love and cherish me. I wanted her to be intellegent, clever, and compassionite. I wanted her to love me for who I was, for my music and my talents. Beauty was not an important item to me, so long as she had dark, chestnut hair. The color of Ann's actually.

I never approaced Ann with my feelings for her, I knew she was still upset over Jason, and I tried hard to remedy that mistake. It was difficult to console her, and so we often left the subject alone. She could never hide, however, for I knew late at night when Meg was in her bed that Ann cried. I couldn't sing to her the way I did for Meg, Ann would surely burst through the walls and strangle me.

Time heals, though, and in time she buried her grief and focused on her career. Meg began to ask questions when she was four, and it was then that I sealed off all contact with the charming little girl.

It hurt me deeply, indeed I was crushed, when I told her that her friend was going away. She had cried and pounded on the walls, but I simply walked away. Of course I did not stop loving her, for she was the child I knew I could never be blessed with, and I continued to watch over her when she entered the conservatory at age five.

Two years of silence and brooding consumed me, until one rainy night Antoinette brought a young seven year old girl to the Opera, and my heart was inflamed.

**Ann: **Life wasn't very simple, in fact I was begining to feel the signs of stress. Megan was growing into a fine, if a little too curious, child, and I was proud. However, Erik angered me to no point.

He would follow the child from within the walls and often left sweets and toys for her. She was being spoiled by him, and she expected it from me too. I tried to explain my reason's to him, that the child would soon talk and perhaps leak his secret to someone, or she would try to find him on her own and become lost within the cellars, but Erik was a man unto himself.

He listened to no one yet expected everyone to listen to him. He ordered the manager around, changed things so often that chaos was a daily occurance, and late at night I could hear him singing to Megan. Of course she would calm down whenever he sang, and I do believe his voice made her very docile and quiet during her first three years.

She was no real problem, her nanny never complained, and it made my job easier. My job, on the other hand, was becoming harder and I was forced to become stricter. Aristocratic ladies, or "odiferous dogs with money and foo-foo hats" as Erik called them, would send me their unruly daughters simply to get them out of their homes. I was not a teacher to these ladies, I was a nanny, and it made me quite angry.

I had often glimpsed Erik slipping among the shadows during rehearsals, and I began to wonder if he had yet had a woman. I wasn't worried about my students, Erik was not the kind of man to force a lady, or else he would have had me long ago. I was more worried for his mind, how he coped with such solitude. Of course the answer was in the loud cachaphony late at night, and whenever I heard this horrid music I knew he was whittling away his frustrations. I felt such pity for him, and I cared so deeply for this man.

I knew he cared for me and Megan, and I appreciated him. He tried to make up for his past mistakes, but nothing could take away my pain at losing Jason. It was hard to put away my grief, but late in the nights when I cried I would hear him singing to Megan, and I too would fall asleep to his distant voice.

The relationship between Meg and Erik was becoming more pronounced as she began to talk, and one time I even heard her singing one of his songs.

I made him swear not to reveal himself physically, and he had promised, so long as he could continue to be her friend. It was an odd friendship, and I was glad Megan was only three, for it would be hard to explain a sixteen year old talking to a wall. The real problem was when Megan began to ask questions, both from me and her friend.

She wanted to know who he was, why he was there, and she wanted to hear his voice in person. I tried endlessly to explain that her friend was not real, he was a shadow. It may seem wrong, but at the time I desperatly wanted the two seperated. It seemed easier to put Erik in the realm of fantasy than to admit that I was keeping track of a man living beneath the Opera.

One day I had come home to find Megan screaming her lungs out and pounding her fist's upon the wall. It had been a long, unconsolable night, for Erik was not there to soothe her and Meg refused to be consoled by me. I had finally been forced to close her door and let her cry until she fell alseep. The next year Megan was old enough to leave her Nanny and become a training ballerina.

She had the grace, the charm, and talent to become the new rising star when she was older. I paid her no special attentions and treated her just as any other student, but she knew I was proud of her. Two years passed quietly, and I worried about Erik. He hardly ever haunted the Opera, he stopped coming to our monthly visits, and when I tried to contact him he'd shut me off.

I couldn't hear his organ anymore, and the notes he sent were sparse. This, of course, all changed the night I heard of the famous violinist's death and how his daughter had nowhere else to go. I begged and pleaded the manager untill I was able to bring her from the orphanage to the Opera.

Two days later Erik came to me in my apartment and hugged me, he actually hugged me for no apparent reason and said thanks.

Thanks?


	9. Christine

Christine.

Christine Daae.

That was the name that kept repeating itself within my head like a song that gets stuck. I had first seen her with Mme. Giry walking along in the rain. She didn't mean much to me, just another brat and an orphan to boot.

However, that all changed when I heard her sing. I had followed Ann into the dormatories with the little child, and as she left Christine and walked back down the halls she whispered so that I alone could hear her, "Christine Daae needs a gaurdian Erik, care for her as you care for my Megan."

That one small act of trust made my heart ache, and I followed the little seven year old girl down to the chapel. I watched as she lit a candle and began to pray for her father. I felt saddened to learn that both her parents were now gone and she felt utterly alone. I watched from within the walls as she began to sing a requiem, and that was when my heart burst. This child had the voice of an angel, a beautiful, soft, lilting voice that made my mind soar and my heart cry out in pain.

Megan didn't have that voice, yet she had the legs of a great dancer. Together, I thought, Megan and Christine could storm Paris with their dancing and singing. I watched as Christine blew out the memorial candle and walked back to her desolate dorm. I followed her but was unable to slip into the dorm myself.

That was one thing I had done, I had not hollowed out the walls or added two-way mirrors to the girls and boys dormatories. They deserved privacy. There was, however, a two-way mirror located in the Prima Donna's personal room. It had been fun watching the last Prima Donna, after all I am a man, but then Carlotta invaded and I had stopped visiting.

The next day I awoke early and requested that Christine be sent an extra fruit bowl and some choctlates for her breakfast. I checked on Meg and Ann, then proceeded to the Managers Office for a few hours to do business. Afterwords, during lunch, I went to visit my little Angel.

She was talking to Megan and I smiled. The two would be good friends for each other. I followed them down to the Prima Donna's room, and took the alternate path within the walls that led to the path of the two-way mirror. I smiled as Meg gossiped about how terrible Carlotta was, and then she proceeded to play with the makeup.

Christine came up the mirror and I bent down to her face. Of course she couldn't see me but I smiled at her anyway. She really was cute, with brunette hair and a little button nose. "Thats a large mirror." She commented. Meg replied, "Carlotta has a big head, she needs that." I laughed quietly, but not quiet enough. Christine pressed her little nose against the wall. "Is someone..."

At that moment Ann had to interupt the girls play and yell at them for intruding in Carlotta's room. As she ushered them back to practice I slipped out into the room, pocketing some expensive jewlery that I would later sell. Carlotta always had Piangi buy her more stuff when she lost what she had, and I always went back to get that too.

I walked along the walls silenty, contemplating Christine's voice. She needed work, and training. I wanted so badly to train her, to teach her what I knew and help her become a true star.

Later that evening she returned to the chapel, and of course I followed. The only times I never followed Christine were when I was following curious little Meg. I watched her light her candle and begin to pray. I had given up on God long ago, but the existance of this girl proved to me that perhaps there was a higher being. She began to sing a different requiem, and I took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly.

Then I said to her, "Try it in C Minor." She stopped, startled, and I clenched my fists. "You idiot!" I cursed myself. Yet instead of leaving, or yelling, or calling out for someone, she simply sat there bewildered a few moments, until she began to sing, in C Minor. Tears streamed down my face as I heard her sweet voice. When she finished I told her, "Good, you have a great talent, I am impressed."

She beamed, she actually smiled at my voice, and the tears rained down. However, I was shocked and confused when she asked. "Are you the Angel of Music?" I thought to myself, _no, you are my dear_, but before I could reply she said, "Has my father sent you here like he promised?" I had no idea who her father was; nor what she was talking about; but I played along anyway. She was a child, lost and hurt, and she wanted a father figure.

I said simply, "Yes."

I had no idea how much trouble that Yes was to bring me.

I bade her to continue singing, but it worried me how gullible and manipulated she could be. I was afraid of the future, when cruel men with dishonorable intentions might try to harm this innocent child. After we said goodnight I did not follow her to her dorm, but set out to Antoinette's apartment and slipped inside.

When she entered I hugged her tight, something I had never done and would never do again, but at that moment it felt like the right thing to do. I told her Thanks and left without a trace.

Later I went to Meg's dorm and wished her a good night, but before I could slip away she opened her eyes. I looked at her for a second and she smiled. I knew that all she could see in the dark was the glow of my white half-mask, so I wasn't afraid of her knowing what I actually looked like. All she knew was that her old friend had never left her, and never would.


	10. Love

**Ann:** I found out about Erik and Christine two weeks later. I never intended for Erik to act the way he did when I told him to watch over the child. I had ment for him to guard and cherish her, perhaps even show himself to her and allow a friendship to develope.

Instead, he was hiding behind walls and mirrors while Christine went about believing she had an Angel watching over her. It was dangerous territory. I often proffered to arrange a meeting between the two, so Christine could meet Erik and he could become a true guardian for her.

He refused to see Christine face to face, and in time I quit asking. It was best to leave things alone. The main good that came out of all this was that Erik became less taxing on our employees. The manager received far less notes, which was good since Carlotta was now grating upon his nerves.

The older ballet girls quit complaining about lost items but the younger girls complained that there were no more candies left for them. Meg was still quiet and thoughtful, but she was as sweet and talented as ever, almost as if she were trying to impress someone.

The subscribers and pratrons were no longer bothered with silly manifestations or unexplained jests. All together it appeared as if Christine's presence had caused Erik to mature and come to his senses. Little truth did I know.

**Erik:** Her voice consumed and controlled me. I obeyed it as a slave follows it's master.

Every morning I would sit with my tea and compose songs for her, and every afternoon I would paint and draw only of her. I stopped visiting the other girls, and the only other ladies that commanded my attention were Ann and Meg.

I continued to give them presents and would still meet with Antionette at the begining of each month. She commented on my changed manners, and I had to tell her I was a grown man now. I was no longer the frightened, sad boy she had rescued. I was twenty years old, I knew what my position in life was, and I knew I had a job to fulfill.

I had to protect Christine, to teach and to train her, and to raise her to be a fine lady of society. She was my sweet prodigy, the mask I could use to play my music and fullfill my dreams, and no one would be the wiser. Ann asked if I was still composing Don Juan Triumphant and I told her yes. I already had the entire cast picked out, and I knew who would play Don Juan. She told me I was crazy, and I told her crazy isn't in my vocabulary.

Each evening was filled with music and that soft voice. Christine was learning fast, and I often made her try challenging chords to test her ability. We not only learned, pupil and teacher, but we also talked. I learned much about Christine's life with her father, but I was careful to avoid letting too much of myself slip.

The truth is, I was terrified. I was afraid that if the sweet, young child learned of my deceit, my treachery, that she would run. She would call the police or leave the Opera. I didn't want to lose my only real happiness. I was so entranced by her that I never noticed how time slipped by.

Each day was a moment for me, and each evening was a dream.

I first gave her lessons in the small chapel, teaching her within the walls and her on the cold stone floor. However, I wanted my prodigy to be as comfortable as possible, and so a few notes and a few mishaps to that dreadful bitch Carlotta, and soon Christine had the best dressing room available.

Of course the other ballet and chorus girls, and I dare say a few boys, were jealous. They stormed Mme. Giry and M. Debbiane demanding to know the reason. I gave them a reason when I allowed, or rather persuaded Maestro Remy, Christine to be cast in a second minor role at one of our performances.

She didn't do quite as good as I had expected, but what they heard was enough to let the little brats know that Christine deserved the very best. I later snuck around and gave all the chorus and ballet brats expensive choctlates, fine champaigne that was confiscated by Mme. Giry, and caviar. This shut them all up, and Christine's lessons continued beside the large, two-way mirror in her new dressing room.

**Ann:** I had thought Erik's shenanigans were over, but I was dead wrong. He constantly argued that the little chapel was not a good area for Christine's lessons. I had to agree the echo was dreadful, but where else could they find to be alone?

I later knew when Carlotta had a backdrop fall upon her what Erik was planning. I was forced to send several notes to our manager, who's nerves I dare say, were fryed. A few more mishaps in which Carlotta found several leeches in her bathing tub and one time a large beehive on her vanity, and she left her dressing room.

Of course Christine was presented with it, amongst great jealousy within the ballet and chorus troupe. Christine went on to perform a medicore role in one performance, but it was still rather better than Carlotta, and the young children were satisfied. When we later returned to their dormitories we discoverd very expensive choctlates, champaigne, and caviar with crackers.

I took the champaigne away and went down to scold Erik. He simply laughed and told me to lighten up. I had to agree that my demeanor had been quite harsh the past few years, and Erik opened the champaigne. We drank a bit and talked, and I actually enjoyed myself. Erik told me he was proud of Megan, and that he had a solo in his Opera especially for her.

I was impressed, and asked him about Christine's role. Of course she had the major part; Amnita. It was nice to simply relax and talk, and when it was time to leave Erik had told me goodbye, and he actually smiled at me.

It had been so many years since he'd smiled like that, but of course he was also inebriated. I waved and left the third cellar, using my skeleton key to slip past Joseph Buquet, who was loitering around suspiciously.

Time flew by, as birds migrated south, and the leaves fell, and winter blanketed the ground with soft snow, and then spring came and the flowers bloomed with clear skys, and then summer heraled the picnics and sailing boats, and the seasons began again. Five years passed with relative calm.

Only a few mishaps occured to remind the Opera who was in charge, but Erik mainly stayed with his prodigy, only once every year coming to give Meg a small birthday gift, which I had no qualms over.

**Erik:** Life was worth living, and living was worth celebrating. Christine was growing into a fine young star. I had begun to request that she work out at least thirty minutes a day, to keep her figure in shape as she entered puberty.

I had also introduced her to yoga, an eastern meditation that helped calm and ease her before performances. Christine appeared to enjoy it very much, and she even taught her best friend Megan about it. I would often watch from the mirror as the two girls would bend and twist in their yoga positions, and I had to admit that they were developing.

Meg was now fourteen and Christine was thirteen. I tried hard to keep my mind clean, as I felt only for Christine a type of fatherly love, but deep within my heart a new form of love was developing just as Christine developed. We continued our lessons, and I adored Christine's voice more than anything.

At home in my lair I would paint, draw, and compose only for her. I even began to build a small manniquin according to her measurments, and I started sewing small dresses and shawls for my Angel. It was quite amusing to see her face light up at the gifts. At night, when she was in bed, I would return to her and we would talk, mostly about her father, until she fell asleep at my soft voice.

I would sometimes sneak up and down, singing to her in her dreams and then returning to my lair. I must say it gave me quite a workout. Ann often commented on my body, but I wasn't particularly interested. I knew no woman would care for me as soon as she saw my face, and a muscular chest would not detract from that.

Ann tried to persuade me that my feelings were unjustified, that I was a good looking man, and we had yet another fight. Just for spite I ripped off my mask and screamed at her, and Ann slapped me. I never hit her back, but I did tell her to back off, and ran to my lair. I spent the entire night writing an apology letter, and delivered it face to face to Ann the next morning.

That afternoon I traveled out into the sun, for the first time in over seven years I walked amongst Parisian Society and visited the Musuem. It felt nice to be out and about after being cooped up inside the Opera Populaire, and I went back to my Christine in a lighter mood.


	11. The Mirror

**Authors Note: Thanks to all the people who have reviewed my story. I'm glad you like it. Now in this chapter we reach the pivotal point of the movie, in which Erik brings Christine to his lair. From now on I will focus on the main events that occured, such as the masquerade and on the rooftop, etc.. from Erik's P.O.V. At the end, I have an idea for a sequel, but I don't know yet if I want to write that. Time will tell after this story is finished. O.k. I'll shut up now. :)  
**

**  
Ann:** I was agitated when he started sending Christine garments and other such personal effects. I told him to stop, and demanded to know where he was getting such personal details of her. He told me it was his life and I should stop ordering him around.

Truth be told I was getting worried. Erik had now known Christine for nearly five years, and yet neither of them actually knew each other. She didn't even know his name! I knew he was over-obsessed with her, and I was worried as well when both Christine and Megan began to enter puberty. It was a normal act of life, but with Erik, who had never known an actual woman, I was terrified he may lose his control one day.

I kept Megan by my side at all times, which was expected as her mother, but I was unable to keep watch over Christine. That was supposed to be Erik's job, and a fine mess he had made of that. Now, instead of sending shawls and such he began to send a single rose tied with a black ribbon to Christine. She began to collect them in a vase, and soon had a large bouquet of dried and scented roses. I thought it was sweet, and slowly my fears evaporated.

Erik was doing no harm as far as I could see. As for me I was quite content. I had a secure job and a wonderful daughter, enough money to live on, and free room and meals. I knew my life may have been happier with Jason, yet alas, this was the life I had sewn for myself, and if I had never rescued Erik I may never have learned so much.

He had taught me throughout the years to look past appearances into a person's soul, and to always question everything. I could learn from a single raindrop the meaning of life, and I could learn from a single book all the answers I ever needed. He not only was my friend, but my tutor, and I was thankful for that. He was also Christine's tutor, and I was truely glad that she would learn what I had learned from him, but I only wished the two could meet in person.

It would be a wonderful day I knew. Of course I have also learned that I don't know everything.

**Erik:** I agreed with Ann about my growing obsession with Christine. No man but her father needed to know such intimate details as her measurements or how she liked her Saturday baths; (lukewarm with peach scented soap and shampoos.) Of course I would never admit my faults to anyone, so I did the only thing I could think of.

I yelled at Ann, again. It seemed as if all we were doing lately was arguing. I was so tired of the drama and constant fighting, I just wanted someone to talk to me seriously. I wanted to talk to Christine, not in the manner we were accustomed but in Person, face to face, perhaps even holding hands. I wanted to smile and laugh with her.

All my life this was what I had been waiting for; to love and be loved in return. Honestly however, I don't know when my fatherly love and caring guardianship became the obessive passion I felt later. All I know is, one day I awoke and I knew I loved Christine as a partner, a companion, even; dare I say; I wanted her as a lover.

My days were filled with breathtaking fantasys of whisking Christine away to exotic lands and exciting adventures. I had never felt this way about Ann before, nor any of the other girls, and I knew it was love. I was unable to watch Christine and Megan practice their yoga anymore, and often after our lessons together I would have to go and stand waist high in the cold water of the lake.

The truth is I was desperate. I longed for Christine to take me in her arms, to caress me and kiss me with abandonment. I had never known any woman, and now I only wanted to know this woman. She was near fifteen now, and every waking moment of my life was filled with thoughts of her.

**Ann: **I felt something was different about Erik a few years after he met Christine. Of course he was more mature, not playing pranks or ruining performances, but I wondered what he did now to pass the time. One day he did not appear before me with any notes, and I was bothered. Every day he always had some note or demand for me, and the sudden absence of that scared me.

I wondered down to the third celler that night and whistled. Whistling was our way of contacting each other without people becoming suscpicous. He appeared a few moments later and asked me what I what I wanted. "I just wanted to see if you are ok." I told him. He replied sarcasticly, "I'm never ok." He came to stand in front of me and I backed away.

He looked sinister in his black evening clothes, black cloak, and wig and white mask. He had grown exceptionally tall, and save for that small portion of his face the rest of him was unconditionally handsome. He looked at me, "Are you frightend?" He asked. "Well, I don't any reason to be do I?" I told him harshly and sarcasticly.

He sighed, "Antoinette, it's been over sixteen years, will you ever move on?" I came towards him and glared. I knew I was the only person in the Opera who dared stand up to him, and I let him know that I was not going to be controlled. He looked at me and made a Tsk Tsk sound under his breath. Then he told me, "Where is Megan, isn't she nailed to your right side?" I shook my head, "I allowed her to go out with friends, I'm not really too concerned now that Christine has your attention."

He smiled at her name and I asked, "How are you two doing together?" I knew from Christine that she was excited and enchanted by her Angel, but I wondered just how Erik felt about her. "She is coming along greatly you know." He replied. He added, "She will astound Paris, and then I'll take her to London and Italy as well." I laughed and said, "You? You've never set foot outside this Opera since I brought you here. I think the sun would poison you if you ever contacted it."

He glared at me and I backed down. "There are many things you don't know Ann. I have seen the outside world, and with Christine by my side I would conquer it." I looked at him. "How do you love her Erik?" I asked. He looked at me quizzically, "How?" he asked. I repeated, "Do you love her as a father, or deeper?" I knew I would not like the answer, but his answer surprised me.

"I love her as the flowers love the sun, they need it's warm rays to help them grow and live. Christine is my sunshine, she frightens away the darkness and helps me live. She inspires me, she moves me in ways no woman has ever moved me, and yes Ann, I love her, deep, intense, and passionate, I love her." I smiled. "You really care for her." He nodded and said, "My whole life has been nothing but heartach and lone despair. Now I have someone to be with, to keep the depressive solitude away."

I told him, "I will do anything for you two to meet. Is that what you want?" He smiled. "Yes, I do believe it is time to see her face to face. You know she calls me an Angel? She is my Angel, and together we are ready to spread our wings." I nodded and he took my hand. He led me up the stairs and told me, "Not yet. I will tell you when I am ready to meet her. In the meantime, care for Megan, and perhaps.."

I hushed him, "NO." He could meet Christine, I had no qualms against that, but my Meg was too innocent, far too sweet and docile for his dark chaos. As I've stated before, I often don't know everything.

**Erik:** Ann promised me she would allow a meeting between us. I and Christine, alone, together, for the first time since we'd met nearly nine years ago. Of course the moment I arrived back at my lair I began to compose a song, especially for Christine. I called it "The Music of The Night" and it contained all my feelings, all the truth's I had hidden from her.

I composed my music for her to sing, I drew my pictures so her beauty would survive decades, and I watched her, because I loved her. She was my life, my blood and breath, and I needed her by my side to serve me, to sing for me.

Many weeks passed and so did Christine's decadant sixteenth birthday, and I finally went to Ann. I told her I was ready, that she could arrange the meeting, and I could show Christine how much I adored her. The plan seemed simple enough, Ann would explain to Christine that her Angel was ready to meet her after the performance, and I would appear from Box Five and bring Christine down to my lair for supper and a conversation.

Of course, plans are often ruined, and this was no exception. The exception was this: an old friend, an old "bosom companion", no more than The Vicompte Raoul De Chagney Of France Himself! The evening was spoiled. That wretched man stole my Box from me the evening of the Gala, so I was forced to listen underground.

Then he had the gall to intrude upon Christine in her dressing room and ask her to supper! I was the one who was to have supper with her that night, it was all arranged and I was not going to let this man ruin it. I waited, breathlessly, as Ann locked Christine's door and left by my side through the mirror.

She winked as she left but Christine was far too busy reminiscing about her childhood friend to notice any of this, and I prayed that this evening would not end on a bad note.

My prayers are often dismissed by God, and I curse the bastard.


	12. Ill Muto

**Erik: **She lay in my bed like the Angel she was. Her warm breath sighed against my pillows, her docile body caressed the sheets, and my heart ached.

The evening had been going all right, until the poor child fainted. I had not expected that. Apparently she had been surprised at my manniquin, which was wearing Amnita's wedding costume for Act IIV of Don Juan. I had brought her down through the mirror, and she had begun to sing for me. I was glad to know her realization that I was The Phantom and not really an actual Angel did not scare her, and together we sang sweet music as Ceaser brought us to my gondola.

She had the perfect pitch, the greatest tone, and I was lost within her voice. It was intoxicating as I began to sing my personal song for her. She allowed me, the sweet young woman, to touch her, to caress her skin. Of course I was slightly agitated that she had not finished dressing and so was here, in my lair, in her corset, slip, and robe.

It hurt me to be so near her body, so warm and delicate, and I tried to control my passion. I sang to her as I showed her my home, my sancturary. Only Ann had ever been allowed here, and now I allowed Christine to breach my solitude. I had planned a wonderful gourmet meal after my song, and I planned to talk to her, yet that was when she fainted. I carried her delightful body to my bed, and gently touched her flushed cheeks.

It was all I could do not to ravish her then and there, but I am a gentleman, and I was not about to harm my love, my life, my Christine. So I ran to my music and played. I tried not to make too much of a racket, so Christine could sleep. After she awoke I wanted to talk to her, to actually have a conversation, and to let her know my true feelings. I wanted to ask her if perhaps, when we got to know each other better, that we could dare to court. I wanted to court her, seriously, to take her on picnics in the park, sailing, and to the museum.

So I became enraptured in my thoughts and music, and she lay in my bed like the Angel she was. Soon I heard her soft voice behind me, and I turned. She was rather alluring and so I turned again to my music.

I felt her soft hands caress my cheek, and it felt so good to have someone touch me without anger or hate. I melted into her embrace until her other hand snuck up to my mask. Before I could stop her she had ripped off my only safe haven! I was shocked, angry, and hurt. I knocked her to the ground, screaming in fury and bitterness.

I was both angry and depressed. I asked her if that was what she wanted, did she want to laugh at me? To mock me? and then I began to cry. I tried to explain that I was only a man, a lonely and deformed man who needed love, companionship, compassion. Why did she hurt me so? Why hadn't she simply asked, simply sat beside me and talked. That was all I had wanted from her, to talk, and yet her nimble fingers had revealed the true monster I was.

Was I a monster? I suppose I was, for now Christine lay crying before me. I wanted to reach out, to hold her, yet that moment was gone. The magic of a few hours earlier was now no more, and I knew she would not consent to have a cold supper with a hideous beast. I felt my heart turn to ice, and I tried to stifle my tears. She handed me my mask and I kissed it before I put it back on. "Come, we must return, those two fools who run my theater will be missing you." I told her.

**Ann:** I don't know exactly what happened between Erik and Christine during their meeting, but he had run in to my apartment red-eyed and tear streaked. It was early morning and the Opera was beginning it's daily existance. He shoved several notes at me and told me to leave Christine alone. I asked what was wrong but he walked away.

I noticed that several of the notes had to be delivered outside the Opera, and so I had one of the "easy girls" who was just now leaving take them with her, on strict intructions that if she read them or did not deliver them, the police would be notified of her activities. Megan came to me and apologized for the night before.

I had caught her sneaking down the passage behind Christine's mirror, and had stopped her just in time. Those two, whatever may have been going on, needed privacy. I knew it was ineveitable, that Megan and Erik would meet, but I wanted to delay that as long as possible. I went to see the Managers and was baraged by chaos.

The Managers were furious over the strange O.G., and Erik had demanded several changes to the performance of Ill Muto. The Vicompte was throwing a tantrum over Christine, and it appeared Carlotta was behaving as usual. Carlotta began to throw one of her Prima Donna Fits and the new Managers had no idea how to handle her.

I tried to warn them, it was worse to anger the Opera Ghost, and even Raoul seemed to agree. We finally managed to get Carlotta under control, and when I went to see Christine I was surprised that she did not accept her Angel's rose in the manner she usually did.

She seemed subdued, almost listless, and I noticed small dark circles under her eyes where she had not slept. I sighed and marched my ballet troupe out for performance.

I had no clue just how dastardly wrong things were going to get.


	13. Rooftop

That irritating aristocrat! That over-pompous, self-involved...Fop! Yes, that's a good name for him, Fop. He took my seat again in Box Five during Ill Muto. The managers did not heed my warnings and had cast Carlotta as the Countess and my beautiful prodigy Christine did not even have a speaking part!

I was exasperated. The new managers were unintelligent, problematic buffoons. I'd never had these problems with the other managers. They had obeyed my every whim and fancy, and I did not like to be disobeyed.

I went to grab Carlotta's spray and replaced it with an herbal mixture of my own. Hopefully it would shut her up, and Christine would be cast as the Countess. I hated to interrupt the performance, but it was necessary. The other necessary item was to explain that Box Five was Mine, and if the man sitting in it had not been an important French Vicompte, he would have been dead long ago.

I used my ventriloquism and told them, the entire Parisian Upper-Class, yet just as I made my announcement Carlotta insulted my Christine. I wanted to swing my Punjab Lasso right then and strangle her, but no need, as she got her spray and began to sing. I snickered as I headed back to my perch above the rafters.

I wondered if now would be a good time to cut down that rickety old chandelier, but just as I was headed in that direction I was bested by none other than Joseph Bouquet. He had followed me and I panicked. I ran towards him and changed the game, now I was the cat and he the mouse. I played with my prize a few moments before I dropped down on him.

The only problem was that the peir I had dropped on was hanging directly over the ballet, and the stage. I pulled out my lasso and began to strangle the man that had irritated me for so many decades. I did not intend for him to fall, but the peir was too loose and thin, and he fell straight to the stage.

Utter chaos ensued, and I ran. Hopefully most of the audience would believe it was only a suicide, but those within the Opera would know who had caused this mayhem. I tried to find Ann but was thwarted by Christine and Raoul racing upwards. I followed them silently. My beautiful Christine was afraid, afraid of me and my actions.

I knew they would head up to the roof, the highest point away from my dark lair, and I took a small shortcut. Raoul burst through the door and tried to tell Christine there was no Phantom of The Opera. I wanted to jump out and push him off right then, but Christine began to talk. She told him of me, of my face and my voice.

She pitied me, believing me to so sad and forlorn. I did not want her pity, I wanted her love, her compassion. She was in no way compassionate as she began to talk to Raoul. I heard him start to sing, and it was as irritating and flat as Carlotta. My heart bled that night, and my tears mingled with the snow.

Christine pledged her love to him, that fop, and I felt as if the ground below had opened and hell had welcomed me home. I turned a corner just as she began to kiss him, and my bleeding heart turned to ice. I was empty, a shell with no life, no mind, and I was ready to simply die. She loved him, it was true, and she pitied me, her Angel, the man who had deceived her.

I cried as I held the rose she had dropped. Once long ago she used to keep them in a vase as they dried, but now they no longer mattered. Raoul could afford to buy her diamonds and crystals, but all I had to offer was my love and my music. I cried for that love, which was slowly wilting as the flower crumpled in my hand. She had no right to betray me like that, to hurt me.

I grew angry, and my tears of sorrow became tears of agitation. I ran to the Angel Statue above the Paris Opera Populaire, and screamed. "You will curse the day you did not do, all that the Phantom asked of you!" I screamed it not only to Christine, but to the Managers, to Ann, and to the entire city of Paris.

I had the entire population beneath my feet, and I raised my hand to give it the finger. I flipped the entire city of Paris, France my finger and screamed in Agony.


	14. Three Months

Ann: He was gone! I raced all over the Opera, searching in dusty rooms and even closets. I ran through the first four cellars until I was out of breath, and then came to the edge of the lake. I noticed that Ceaser was gone too and I screamed his name. Clutching my side in agony I dredged through the water.

His gondola was standing halfway there, as if he had jumped out in a hurry. I rowed myself along to the gate and opened it with my skeleton key. He was not there either, in fact, he was nowhere within the Opera! His lair was crowed with papers and trash, and I realized the true extent of his obsession with Christine.

I had not been in his home for over eleven years, and so I set to work cleaning up. It was all I could think of doing until he returned from where ever it was he had went.

He did not return however, until three months later.

Erik: I left. I just left. I couldn't stay behind and watch Christine with that bastard. She was all doe-eyed and happy, and here I was drowning in misery. I packed only my necessary belongings; my Don Juan, some clothes and money, paper, ink and pencils.

I took Ceaser and headed south. I didn't know where I was going and it was hard to see through my tear soaked eyes. I ended up in some sleazy tavern with a pint of cheap beer and my Opera. I began to write, write as I had never had inspiration to write before. I wrote about how Don Juan fell in love, and was betrayed by that love.

I wrote an intricate plot about changing identities, and then was forced to leave the tavern at closing time. I slept that night under the stars, and wondered why, of all the millions of cooing girls that Raoul could have, why did he want the only woman I had ever loved, and who had, at one time, loved me.

I knew that love had been misguided, and I couldn't blame Christine for her fear, but she had never given me a chance. I wanted to explain myself, to tell her all the things that now weighed heavily upon my mind. I still loved her, but I knew that I could not force love on her. If she wanted to be with that nitwit, it was her choice.

But Dammit, I wanted her so bad! It was a fitful night, and I awoke unrested. I took Ceaser down to the local market, and bought some better tasting alcohol and some wine, and then found a soft spot on a grassy hill.

I let my horse wander as I wrote more, and drank. Soon I fell asleep, and dreamed of Christine. I dreamed that she came to me, dressed as Amnita, and we danced. It was a sultry, soft dance and she confessed her love, and then I awoke. I drowned my sorrows in more alcohol, and then led Ceaser north, or south, I can't really remember which way we went.

I came to the border that led into Slovenia, and as I crossed that small country I composed my Opera and began to think about life. It was the first time I'd ever been outside France, and I enjoyed it. I toured the ancient castles, I wondered through foreign villages. It amazed me how beautiful the world was, and then I came to Italy.

Italy had the finest architecture, the most beautiful scenery, and the tastiest pasta. I spent weeks going from one museum to the next, from each cathedral to every building. I even drew a few pictures, but mostly I wrote. I wrote about love, and losing love, and consummating love, and I wrote about Don Juan being Triumphant. Instead of losing his love and being sent to hell for his violent sins, I wrote that he and Amnita shared love, and he changed his wanton ways to become a respectful man.

I often sat for hours by the shores of Italy and watched the young couples. They say France is the empire of love, the place for lovers, but truly Italy is the capital of romance. A person will fall in love in Italy and marry in France. I had realized through my journey that not many people stared at me. I moved along as any other, and I was not ridiculed save for a few times.

I felt as if I could be free, not bound and chained like back at the Opera Populaire. I enjoyed my time, but alas, one bright and calm day as I was enjoying my brunch, I wrote the last few notes of Don Juan. It was over, I was finished. I felt a sudden dead drop in my heart as I realized the masterpiece I had been working on for so many decades, was complete.

Don Juan was Triumphant, and now his story was ready for the stage. To be honest I didn't want to leave, I wanted to travel further, to visit more buildings, but my home beckoned in my heart, and I wanted to know what had happened those few months I was gone.

My tired horse and I traveled solemnly towards that prison, and I found myself once again lost within bottles of alcohol. I returned two weeks before the grand New Year's Bal Masque, and in a drunken haze I bought several yards of red fabric and began to sew a costume. I'd show them who the boss really was, and I'd let them see me for the first time.

I wanted to get Christine back, she belonged to me and no one else. Most of all I wanted them to see Don Juan, and I'd make them perform my play even if I had to shove my sword up those Managers asses. It was going to be grand, a real Bal Masque complete with entertainment in the form of

... Red Death...


	15. Ceaser

**Erik: **I had only a few days left before the Bal Masque, and I was in a hurry to finish my costume. However, I had more pressing issues on my mind; Ceaser was dying. It had begun during our journey back home, but now he was laying on his side and breathing in short gasps. Of course I knew animals didn't live forever, but I had never really thought of the impact this would have on me.

On top of all the misery after I'd learned of Christine's and Raoul's fling during my absence, now my beloved pet was dying. I cursed the world and it's cruelty. Slowly I held Ceaser's muzzle in my lap as I stroked his mane. He gave several gasps, and passed on.

I cried hard, the tears flowing into the lake. Ceaser had been like a friend to me, helping me bring items down to my lair, carrying me all these years, and being there when I needed to pet him in my solitude. Now all was lost, I had no Christine, no Ceaser, and no reason to live. I dragged the horse out from his hidden stable in the fourth cellar, and began to pull him along outside.

It was hard work, and I hadn't tried to move anything this heavy since I'd brought my Organ Piano down to my lair. By the time I reached the small courtyard in the back of the Opera I was feeling a little dizzy. I wasn't the young, taunt boy I used to be.

I was nearly thirty and losing bits of strength. I went back to the warehouse to get a shovel, and then went inside to gather Ann. She had a right to know, she had brought me Ceaser so long ago, and I wanted her to be there when he was laid to rest.

I mused on the fact that I hadn't seen her in nearly three months.

**Ann:** My heart nearly stopped when I saw him. For the past three months the Opera had been celebrating the end of the Ghost's reign, but I had been wary. I knew Erik would come back sometime, but certainly not in the form of a sweating, angry man holding a large shovel.

I wondered if he had learned about Christine's fling with Raoul. Ever since they had been reunited they had also been inseparable. Christine gushed and cooed over Raoul in a way she had never done with her Angel. It angered me.

She had no right to betray Erik's love, and she had no right to abandon him in the manner she did. Not once during Erik's three month absence did Christine ever even ask where her Angel was. It appeared as if she had completely forgotten him in the presence of Raoul, and that too angered me.

I knew Erik would be even angrier, and I feared his wrath when he returned. Now here he was, standing in my door with a menacing shovel in his hand. "Erik." I said softly. I noticed that he had also been crying. "Ceaser passed away tonight." He told me sadly. My heart gave a leap, that was why he was so sad and angry. "Oh." I said in relief. Erik looked at me quizzically. "OH?" He asked.

I looked down at the ground in shame, but Erik said, "I know Antoinette, I know about...them." He looked at the shovel and said quietly, "This may be about the same size of Raoul's head; But it's not for that, it's for burying Ceaser. I came to ask if you'd like to join me in a requiem." I nodded my head quietly and followed him outside. "Where have you been?" I asked. He replied, "My secrets are no one's but my own." I didn't question him further, he was already riled enough. We came to the courtyard and I ran to Ceaser.

The beautiful black horse lay on his side, and I stroked his long main one last time. Erik began to dig a hole, and I petted the horse's cold body. I knew he was depressed, and the knowledge of Raoul and Christine would eat at him like a worm eat's into an apple's core.

If he was sad over losing Ceaser, I could easily get another horse for him, or a cat or dog, but I couldn't just go out and get a new love for him. Christine had been his life, his passion, and now she was gone. There was no way Erik could force her to love him.

She pitied him, but her heart belonged to Raoul. I wondered how Erik felt about Megan. I had found several drawings of her in his lair when I cleaned up, and I had even found inscribed on the Opera Dollhouse he had built the words "To Megan Giry, From Erik." He had built that for her, but never given it, and I wondered why. It took over thirty minutes to dig a hole large enough for the horse, and then I helped him bury Ceaser.

We spent another thirty minutes pushing the dirt back into place, and when we stood back up Erik cleared his throat. "Ceaser was a fine horse, a good animal companion, and I liked him. Hopefully he is in a nice place now, and we can be reunited in time." He then began to sing the Dies Aries, and I clutched my heart.

His sultry voice rang out with such sorrow, such passion. I had often heard him singing before, but never like this. He had such tone, such beauty in his vocal chords, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. His words caressed my mind and tinged my senses with abandonment. I closed my eyes and felt myself swaying to his music in the breeze.

Suddenly I heard his song crescendo and end, and he said "Ann, Ann..You O.K?" I smiled at him and replied, "Erik, that was so beautiful." He looked at me blankly and replied, "That was a funereal march for a dead horse, how could you say it was beautiful?"

I sighed and patted the ground where Ceaser laid. Together we walked back to my room, and he bid me goodnight. I waved and went back to my sewing. It was four days before the Grand Bal Masque, and Megan wanted to be a swan. I sewed her costume and wondered if Erik would be able to sleep with all the racket the New Years Celebration would create.

He had never attended the parties before, and I didn't expect him to attend this one.


	16. MaqueradeTalks

**Ann:** The night of the Masquerade. What a grand and opulent celebration. How marvelous and beautiful The new managers Firmin and Moncharmin had spared no expense to create the most lavish New Years Eve ever.

The entire Parisian Upper Class was present that night. Dukes and Duchesses, Lords and Ladies, and of course Vicomptes.Christine had had the gall to show up with him even though her Angel had spoken to her that morning. I'd heard her and him, although it is quite rude to eavesdrop. Yet now, here she was, in all rose pink splendor, sprawled across Raouls arm like a lovesick puppy.

My Megan was dancing with every available man, and I saw quite a few jealous ladies. I myself hung to the back, enjoying the view. All seemed safe, merry, and jubilant. Until Erik. Edgar Allen Poe's Masque of The Red Death. Pure Terror. He made quite a grand entrance, slithering down the steps and threatening the managers.

He mocked the actors, commanded that his Opera be performed, and detailing exactly how it was to be done. I shrank in horror, holding Megan close to me. I could feel her trembling, and my hands were cold as ice. Red Death came to The Rose, and they stared. I do believe it was only the second time Christine had seen Erik. I mouthed silently to her _"See what a magnificent man you've abandoned!"_ Erik screamed at her "You belong to me!" and grabbed her gold ring.

It was only then that I realized the ring she had been wearing for two weeks was actually an engagement ring. I ran towards Erik, but a cloud of smoke blinded me. Raoul jumped in after him, and I ran the other way, towards the brick wall that led to the side door of the mirror room. I came in just as Erik was teasing Raoul.

I grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room.

**Erik:** The Bal Masque. The ridiculous New Years celebration they held every year. This time my new managers decided to use up all the remaining money in the bank account just to finance their silly performance.

What a lavish and over-done celebration. How trite and supercilious. Quite an egotistical parade of pompous aristocrats. The backstage was much more fun. I hung in the shadows watching the original dances and celebrations of the loose, excited lower-class.

They danced and partied with abandonment, certainly more interesting and enjoyable than the Grand Foyer. Alas, the Grand Foyer is where I made my entrance. I suantered down the stairs, threatening all with my powerful presence. For the first time in over 24 years of haunting, I revealed myself. I was a man, a dangerous, hurt man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

I threw my Opera down along with shiny gold coins. I made it clear who was to perform what and how. I would over-see the productions to make sure my demands were carried out. Then I came to her, Christine. Beautiful, sensual, the object of my passion. I walked ever closer to her, and then saw the ring upon her neck. That Vicompte!

I growled as I snatched the trinket away, "Your chains are still mine! You belong to ME!" I screamed at her. How dare she betray me in this fashion! I threw my handmade smoke bomb down and disappeared through the trapdoor. It remained open! Damn! I tried to press the lever but it was stuck, and then that bastard followed me.

Raoul attempted to slash me, but only cut thin air at my reflection. I was glad I had built this room so long ago. It proved to be rather amusing as Raoul acted like the foolish fop he was. Suddenly Ann reached in and I growled. She pulled Raoul away and I ran to find Christine.

We needed to have a talk.

**Ann:** I pulled Raoul into my room and sat him down. He looked at me, imploring me to explain. I told him all I knew, everything I had done with Erik. I explained how I had brought him down to the Opera after he'd killed Javert.

I told him how Erik used the Opera as his playground, his personal domain. I told him what I had never told anyone in my life, even to my poor husband. Raoul was understanding, and he did not blame me. I, however, did blame myself. He patted me on the shoulder and left. He wanted to keep a close eye on Christine that night.

**Erik:** I ran to Christine's dressing room and waited. I did not hide behind her mirror, but stood calmly in her room. Several moment's later she appeared and began to pound her fist's on my chest. "What do you want from me!" She screamed.

She backed away and I hung my head in shame. "Christine, I want to explain." She replied, "There's nothing to explain!" I sat on her bed and began to tell her my story anyway. She continued to stand before me, but had the curtesy to listen without interrupting. I told her about my life with my mother, her abusive and cruel treatment, and the night I ran away.

When I talked about my life at the gypsy camp, I did not tell her about Javert. I made it sound as if Ann had rescued me, and there was no way I would tell her about Ann's husband. By the time I was finished she was in tears, and I stood up.

"I love you Christine, more than you'll ever know. I want you to rehearse your part well, and think about what I am offering you. Love, a life of music, and ease, and forever being pampered. Remember, I am always here for you." I wanted very badly to kiss her then, even a small peck upon the forehead, but I did not. I walked into the mirror and sat behind it, crying.

fell asleep sometime later, until the sound of footsteps awoke me. I watched her dress, and knew she must have been heading for her Fathers grave. I quickly ran outside, bashed the Carriage driver over the head, and waited, hidden, until she appeared.


	17. Suicide

**Authors Note: Sorry for the long delay, I've been having trouble logging in. These are the last two chapters for this story. After the end there will be a sequel. It may be posted a few days from now and for those who are interested in what the ship will be, I'll give you one hint. **

**_Triumverate._ **

**It will be written in the same style as this story, from three different viewpoints. If that's going to be too difficult to read, please tell me now.  
**

**  
Erik:** I pounded away at my organ piano furiously. I slammed my fists down and screamed. I had been defeated, utterly humiliated, and my love had ridden away on a white horse. I no longer held love within my heart, it was all an angry black abyss.

I had followed Christine down to her father's mausoleum, hoping against hope that she had thought about my earlier words. I had watched, mesmerized, as she sang for her father. Her voice rang out with purity, resilience, and beauty. She sang at her top peak, just as I had taught her, and it was as grand as the Gala night. I called to her, asking her to come to me, to be my love and life.

Then that lowly son of a bitch Raoul intercepted us! What a charming little Prince on his white horse, coming to rescue his Princess. I charged him, brandishing my sword. We fought for Christine, and we fought to the death. I wanted to kill him, right then and there, however, my experience with swords has been limited to books and solo practice; erstwhile Raoul De Chagney had been trained with top performers and had the knowledge of real combat that I lacked.

He bested me, ready to stab me as I would have done to him, yet Christine screamed. My heart lept with joy! Had she come to her senses? Ready to give me a helping hand and leave with her Angel? Yet No! She bade Raoul to spare me, but did not help me to my feet.

She left me, cold and humiliated, in the snow. I watched her leave with him, and that was when my love turned to loathing. I did not want Christine as my partner now, I wanted her so that Raoul could never have her. She had clearly made her choice, I was nothing to her, but when love consumes a person they burn with desire, and I was on fire.

I hit the organ piano, no longer playing anything comprehensible. I stood up in a moment of fury, kicking the bench. I screamed, and then fell to my knees. I cried as I pulled my mask off, letting the tears mingle with the water.

I looked up, and then stood. I cried as I backed up, and then took a flying leap with my arms spread straight into the lake. However, in my despair, I had forgotten how shallow the water was, and rather than drown, I hit the flat edge of a sharp rock, my stomach taking the brunt of the fall.

Pain seared through me, and I saw the water dyed red with blood. I placed my face into the water and let my body sink as low as it could. My lungs burned and my body cried out in agony. I felt myself gasping for air, and all I could see was the dark, red blood.

I began to feel dizzy as my lungs languished in agony. Soon I was thrashing about and I lifted my head out of the water. I gasped as I breathed in the cool, damp air. If this was how long it took for someone to drown, then I supposed I should hang myself instead.

I walked out of the water, my body screaming in pain as I looked down. My shirt was ripped and blood and water had soaked it through. I tore it off and gaped at the large, thick gash across my stomach. I marched over to the curtain that hid my private bathroom.

I grabbed several towels and some gauze, and began to clean myself off. It was hard to find clear water that had not been swirled with blood, but I managed to wash off. I winced as I placed the gauze on the various wounds, not just my stomach but my arms and legs as well. I stood up and faltered.

I was weak, dizzy, and had barely enough time to reach my bed before I passed out.

**Ann:** The first time we heard the score for Don Juan, we were shocked. Not only was it written in difficult half-tones, but the lyrics were utterly atrocious. Of course I knew this was the type of Opera Erik would write, but it was hardly appropriate for Paris Society.

The ballet troupe kept messing up their moves, and only Megan appeared to understand the score at all. Carlotta threw a major fit after she realized how small her part was, and then, as usual, she walked out. Christine practiced with Piangi, but I knew who would really play Don Juan.

I didn't know how he would pull it off; sleeping potion in Piangi's drink, or a knock upside the head? Dear God, I prayed, lets hope Erik wouldn't actually kill Piangi.

I also prayed in the weeks we practiced that nothing would upset the performance. I wanted it all to go smoothly, as much for Erik's sake as for the Opera. If the opening night proved well, and the reviews weren't too condescending, then perhaps Erik could come out, he could walk amongst Paris and know that his Opera had been a success.

Of course, if it wasn't a success, who would pay the price? I had my ballet troupe practice day and night, and made the chorus learn how to sing in half-notes.

Things went on as they always did the weeks before a performance, except this was no ordinary performance.

**Erik: **I must give Raoul credit for one thing. His mind is more abnormal than the one used in Frakensteins monster. He actually told the managers, the employees, and Christine all about his little Capture Plot, right inside the Opera!

Everyone knows The Opera Ghost is the eyes and ears of the Opera. There is nothing that escapes me, even a plot about Police. Authority means little to me. I watched as he explained his ideas, and planned my own little idea.

I would sneak up on Piangi after Act II, before the scene Point of No Return. I would then use my voice to ensnare and entrance the audience, even the Fop would be powerless under my vocal spell. Of course I was worried a bit, because both Antoinette and Christine had become accustomed to my voice, and I did not want either of them to give away my pretense.

Megan herself had heard me several times, and I was unsure if she could be bespelled. Only time would tell, and the time was now. I donned my costume, adjusted my wig, and decided that the last bit of my plan would be the Grand Finale. I had no intentions of letting them finish Don Juan, for both the main actors would disappear.

I would grab Christine, wether or not she was willing, and let the Grand Chandelier fall. I had already cut the main cords, and all it would take was one little snip for chaos to ensue. I wanted to run away with Christine, far away from the Opera and France itself. I needed her more than anything, and if she was not willing, then I would force her.

She had no choice now, for I knew that if I let her go, she would run to Raoul. I hoped that bastard burned when the Chandelier fell. I didn't care if they all burned, except for Ann and her daughter. I wondered if they would be able to find a way out.

Ann wouldn't be stupid enough to chase after me, she knew that what Erik wants, Erik gets, and I was going to get what I wanted.


	18. The End Or Is It?

**Erik:** With Piangi gone, I walked out and over to her. She enslaved me with her delicate body and sensuous voice. I was able to touch her again, and I cherished the sensation.

Our bodies melted within each other, her scent deluded my senses. I caressed her skin as she leaned into me. It was our song, our duet, and we sang with desire.

I watched as the audience fell under my spell, my voice enchanting them with it's uncanny tone and timbre. I watched Raoul as he watched us, and his face was a mixture of disgust and horror. For spite I leaned in towards Christine and began to gently caress her waist as I sang the song that Raoul had sung to her.

She had already come to me, made her final descision, and now, as soon as Act II was finished, I would carry Christine into the fire, as the play had been written, but instead of us reemerging for Act III, we would be well under the Opera and making our way out of France.

However, we never even finished Act II. Christine, the fucking tart, the selfish, irritating little rat, ripped off my mask AGAIN! This time for the entire world to see!

I hesitated, afraid. Never before had I felt so vulnerable, so open and hurt. My heart raced, I began to sweat in terror. Then, in a flash, something within my mind just snapped. I simply fell off the edge of reason and fell off the bridge we were standing on into the fire. I snipped the rope and the chandelier fell.

That was all I could remember until the blackness receded and I found myself staring at Christine in my lair, holding a veil and somehow looking at Christine in her wedding costume.

I don't remember forcing her into it, and I didn't know why she was crying. Had I hurt her somehow? In the black veil of my distorted mind, had I hurt my beloved Christine? Who or what else had I harmed in my insanity?

**Ann:** I had prayed long that morning, before the performance. I had said my prayers quietly to God so Erik could not over-hear. I stood silently off to the side watching the performance as Act I finished. Piangi disappeared beneath the curtain and I motioned for the Ballet Troupe to take their places.

Suddenly my heart stopped and my fist's clenched. Erik had appeared. His voice rang out and I realized he was bespelling the audience.

I myself was not ensnared as badly as The Vicompte, whose face registered the horror and shock of being so powerfully moved by one man's voice.

I found it rather amusing, but I did not find Erik's performance amusing. Obviously he knew the police would be there, and he told Christine to keep silent. She obeyed his every command and I wondered if she, somehow, was making her decision.

They danced and swayed, their bodies moving in such precise desire that I hardly believed it to be an act. It was emotional, and I found myself smiling at the obviously love-lorn couple. Erik began to sing off-cue, and Monsuier Remy looked at the managers in confusion.

They too were confused as whether or not to send down the Police, but just then the inexplicable happened. Christine ripped off Erik's mask in full view of the audience! I screamed, "You Dirty Bitch!" as I ran towards Erik.

Before I could reach him, however, he cut down a rope and fell through the trap-door. This was not what I had expected. All those time's he'd told me about Don Juan, it had seemed as if he wanted the entire play to be performed with him as the lead actor.

Instead, the chandelier came crashing down and Erik had kidnapped Christine Daae; again. Raoul ran towards the backstage and I tried to avoid him. I had to reach Erik before he hurt the poor child; I had seen his eyes go blank and knew his mind had blacked out. Raoul ran to me as did Megan. I didn't want either of them to be hurt, but my daughter was more important.

"You stay here!" I told Meg, although I knew she would try and find Erik's lair without me. I led Raoul towards the first cellar, and then the second. I made sure to position him above the water trap-door that Erik had installed on the bottom second cellar floor. "This is as far as I dare go." I told him. It was true in a sense, I hardly dared go past the third cellar except in emergencies, but now as I heard the splash behind me I raced to find my daughter and the Police.

**Erik:** She sang to me, she sang a song of love and remorse. I walked towards her sullenly, needing her comfort. I knew then that she would go with me, whether it was in her heart or not. She did, somewhat, love me for who I was.

Suddenly I heard splashing, and glared at the intruder. "Raoul!" Christine screamed. I knew in that split second all that had occurred several seconds before was lost. She would never consent to leave with me if her damn Vicompte was here to rescue her.

I flashed back to that graveyard, to her insidious refusal to help me, and again I blacked out. I came too several minutes later, only to discover I was holding a rope across Raoul's neck as he screamed for me to let her go. Christine was screaming back, and I was screaming from sheer frustration.

I needed her, she was my only salvation from an ever increasing insanity. The hands of madness had wrapped themselves around my mind and I was helpless to resist. I screamed, "Make your choice!". Christine looked from Raoul to me, and she came to the edge of the water. I watched in anger as she walked towards me.

I couldn't understand what she was doing as she slipped the ring around her finger, and then leaned in to kiss me. She pressed her soft, passionate lips against mine and all thoughts of anger, madness, and fear were swept away in a comforting embrace. I grasped her lips with mind and moaned. It was so warm, so intoxicating, as our bodies melded into one another. She leaned back and I leaned foreword.

I needed more, honestly, my body was raging with pent-up emotions and my lips were stinging with desire. She looked at me with love and kissed me again, more passionate and arduous than before. I felt my heart leaping and my mind racing. She would stay with me, forever, and we could leave immediately.

However, as our second kiss ended and I leaned back, I thought of all the actions that had brought this about. I thought of how I had deceived her, for so many years she had thought I was an Angel from her father. I had kidnapped her, black-mailed her, almost tried to murder her childhood companion, and now I was, in a sense, forcing her upon myself.

I began to cry, deep and honest, as I thought of how happy she appeared with Raoul. She had not smiled once during the half hour we had been in my lair, and I sobbed. She may have wanted to stay with me, but I couldn't force her to love me as honestly and innocently as she did Raoul.

Their love came about not from deceit and treachery, but from a real connection. I realized from that wonderful kiss that Christine and I had no connection, that our relationship was one-sided. "Go..Take..Him...Leave me alone!...Go Now and LEAVE!" I screamed as I pushed her away, and she ran to Raoul.

I saw that connection, as she helped untie him, and knew that if I made her stay with me, in time she would be miserable. I ran to my bedroom and sobbed, grabbing my music box and listening to the soft lullaby. A few minutes later and I heard the sound of the mob coming to my lair.

I looked up and saw Christine. "I love you." I whispered. She did not reply, but handed me the ring, so expensive and ornate. She had tears in her eyes and I repeated, "Christine, I love you." Again, she did not reply, and I knew, deep in her heart, she did not love me romantically. She pitied me, she felt sorrow and remorse at my fate, and she loved me as a father or guardian, but not as a companion.

I would always be her friend, but never would she love me as I loved her.

I watched them sail away as she took one look back at me. I cried, and then looked at my lair. One final glance before I began to smash my hidden mirrors and screamed. I screamed as I busted the one mirror that led to the Paris Catacombs and my escape route.

I ran until I was exhausted, and began to sink to my knees in despair. "Christine!" I screamed. "Christine...


End file.
